


Feasting

by Lbilover



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-02 00:23:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8644147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lbilover/pseuds/Lbilover
Summary: After leaving Rivendell, Frodo and Sam seek a little privacy.





	

'Sam and I are going to stretch our legs,' Frodo announced after the Company's sparse, cold, extremely unsatisfying supper was finished.

'Don't go far,' Aragorn warned around the stem of his pipe.

'We won't,' Frodo promised.

'I can't believe you two are going for a walk,' Pippin exclaimed in disbelief. 'You must be gluttons for punishment. Believe me, when we get home I won't walk any further than it takes to get from my bed to the dining room table and back again.' With an aggrieved expression, he rubbed at the sole of his right foot.

As Frodo and Sam departed, the laughter of the Company followed them, but in truth they didn't walk very far, as stretching their legs was not in fact what they had in mind. When they reached the concealing shelter of a stand of evergreens, they halted and Frodo let his head rest on Sam's sturdy chest, while Sam snugged his arms tight around him. They stood in wordless content for a while, relishing this rare moment of privacy, then Sam tipped Frodo's chin up with his fingers and they kissed: soft searching kisses interspersed with murmurs of love and longing that quickly intensified until desire reached a tipping point that could not be denied.

Clothes rustled, feet shuffled, and then tree bark pricked painfully into Frodo's back. The pain faded before a delicious fullness and heat and the rhythm of strong thighs thrusting; all too soon, but not soon enough, ecstasy spilled through both with the rush and power of a Rivendell waterfall. 

'I'll last for a bit now,' Sam said prosaically when he'd got his breath back.

'You're comparing me to the beer-barrel in the Bag End cellar, are you?' Frodo said with mock indignation, pulling up his trousers and undergarments after wiping his sticky belly clean with a handkerchief.

Sam picked up Frodo's cloak from the ground, shook loose the stray needles clinging to it, and draped it over his shoulders. 'I do love beer, Frodo, but it never made me feel like I do right now: fuller than after the feast at Mr. Bilbo's Party.'

'Oh Sam.' Frodo gave him a quick kiss, then sighed and fastened a final errant button. 'We'd better go back before they start worrying about us.' He sighed again. 'I fear this particular feast may have to last you for more than a bit. It may not be safe to take such a chance again.'

'We'll see. There's a long road ahead of us and anything can happen.' 

Sam held out his hand and Frodo took it, saying, 'My dear, optimistic Samwise. What would I do without you?'

They walked quietly back to the camp, only releasing their handclasp when they saw the point of Gandalf's grey hat sticking up above the rocks. 

'Well, have you two finally had enough of walking?' Pippin asked as they rejoined the Company, preparing their bedrolls for sleep.

'Aye,' Sam replied, deadpan, 'I reckon we'll last for a bit now.'


End file.
